


up to the highest high

by 1001cranes



Series: By and By [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, F/M, First Time, M/M, Multi, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:51:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001cranes/pseuds/1001cranes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate takes a day to think it over, to plan her attack. She's good on her feet, but a little preplanning never hurt anyone. And if she’s going to make Derek bleed, well - she needs just the right weapon. The right words. A thousand little pinpricks and cuts, because Derek isn't the type you can cut off at the knees so easily. You have to look for that dark, hidden place to plant a seed of doubt, and Kate? Kate's good at that.</p><p>”He wants to be with a girl,” she says. Like poisoned honey. “Or he doesn’t not want it, am I right? You think that curiosity won’t get the better of him one day?" She’s got her hands on him when she says it. She feels the beating of his heart, the firmness of his pectoral muscles, because, hey, this is precisely the way she swings. And Derek might keep it pretty well tucked under his cap, but he doesn’t exactly hate the female persuasion himself. Or at least he’s attracted to them. Same difference in the end.</p><p>“Better the devil you know,” she says, and from the way Derek’s gaze narrows she’s got a feeling she’s won.</p>
            </blockquote>





	up to the highest high

**Author's Note:**

> an AU scene set in the By and By 'verse, for vangoghstars

When Derek Hale comes to see her, Kate decides to say yes just for the intrigue. Derek Hale doesn’t ask for things. Derek Hale doesn’t need things, or anyone, so when he asks Kate for help she has to know why. Kate loves to make a mystery unravel, and the Stilinski kid is a big one. Kate has to wonder what Derek sees in Stiles, because he wouldn’t care about a rumor if there wasn’t truth in it. People like Derek don’t care about anything less than the truth.

| | 

Kate gets to drive the Camaro a few times a week, as per their girlfriend agreement, and one day she takes them over to the Sheriff’s house. Derek figures out where they’re going halfway there. His face gets pinched, the line between his eyebrows furrows, and he stares out the window away from her until they get there. There are no other cars out front and Derek takes Kate in the front door without knocking. Stilinski is sitting at the table by himself, fresh off the bus. All alone. 

“What are you doing here,” Stiles says flatly. Not quite a question. Kate watches his eyes flick from her to back to Derek, back to her, the way he drinks her in, head to toe – half low-grade teenage desire, half burning hatred, and  _wow,_  but it’s been a while since Kate’s come across something that hot head on.

“Der can’t find his chemistry book,” Kate says, once it becomes apparent Derek is willing to sit in silence. She isn’t fake-dating him for his social skills.  ”He thought he might have left it here.”

Stiles’s mouth thins. Jealous and insecure is a surprisingly good look on him.  Makes his face pink. “He hasn’t been here all week,  _sooooo_ ,” and his mouth makes a little moue that could very well explain at least half of Derek’s obsession with the kid, “- that’s unlikely.

“Well,” she says. “Too bad,” and holds out her hand for him to shake. ”I’m Kate, by the way. I don’t think we’ve officially met.” She can practically see his dislike for her warring with his good manners, and them moment when his good manners win out. He’s got big hands, Stiles. Like a growing puppy with oversized paws. And what a good boy, in the end. How _did_ Derek sink his claws into this one?

“I’ll see you later,” Derek says, abrupt and tense. He practically  _drags_ Kate out to the car by her arm. There might even be bruises later. Kate imagines the look on Chris’s face when he sees them later. Dinner time, maybe.

| |

“Don’t do that again,” he says once they’re in the Camaro - Derek driving this time, though Kate isn’t sure how good of an idea that is, with all that banked rage and flaring nostrils. Not just angry. Something else. “The whole point of this -“

Kate smirks. “I’m you’re girlfriend,  _Der_. I don’t think dropping by your good friend the Sheriff’s is going to raise any eyebrows.”

That’s not why he’s angry and they both know it, so Derek doesn’t protest again.

| |

Kate thinks about the two of them that night. Derek and Stiles. Stiles is a cute kid. Sweet. But that wouldn’t be enough to hold Derek’s attention. Wouldn’t be enough for a first look, much less a second. Derek doesn’t give a damn about cute or sweet. Kate thinks it was the fire, maybe - all that sickening good will and pity, being talked down to, being asked about your feelings. Derek’s life is already fucked up. He’s not interested in the head cheerleader, in being valedictorian, in taking the lacrosse team to the Championships. That’s not his story.

So Stiles. The Sheriff’s kid. Probably either a goody-goody or a badass waiting to be unleashed - Kate knows the pressure of authority, the assumption of perfection. Maybe he falls somewhere in between, with a tongue like a lash. An up-and-coming Kathyrn Merteuil. Only good when people are looking.

There must be  _something_.

Then she thinks about them together, obviously; the picture it makes. How long it’s been going on. That Derek wasn’t almost certainly Stiles’s first, for everything. First kiss, first fuck - the first to suck his dick, the first to press him down and make him come. To have him on all fours. To watch his face when he comes. 

She wouldn’t say she  _begrudges_  Derek that, exactly - she doesn’t particularly care about Stiles, the flesh and bone of him - but she envies the things Derek took from him. The mark he put on him. The space he owns in Stiles’s head. She wouldn’t mind  _that._

She gets off to the thought of Stiles’s mouth, sloppy and eager. His big hands prying her thighs apart. Of Derek hate fucking her through the mattress afterwards, while his little boyfriend pulls on his cock until he comes.

| |

Kate takes a day to think it over, to plan her attack. She's good on her feet, but a little preplanning never hurt anyone. And if she’s going to make Derek bleed, well - she needs just the right weapon. The right words. A thousand little pinpricks and cuts, because Derek isn't the type you can cut off at the knees so easily. You have to look for that dark, hidden place to plant a seed of doubt, and Kate? Kate's good at that.

”He wants to be with a girl,” she says. Like poisoned honey. “Or he doesn’t _not_ want it, am I right? You think that curiosity won’t get the better of him one day?" She’s got her hands on him when she says it. She feels the beating of his heart, the firmness of his pectoral muscles, because, hey, this is precisely the way _she_ swings. And Derek might keep it pretty well tucked under his cap, but he doesn’t exactly hate the female persuasion himself. Or at least he’s attracted to them. Same difference in the end.

“Better the devil you know,” she says, and from the way Derek’s gaze narrows she’s got a feeling she’s won.

| |

Her pulse might jump when he corners her after history class, but not from surprise.

| |

Derek picks her up Saturday afternoon, and she gets to watch Stiles’s face light up when Derek walks in - and watch it fall when she follows.

“You again,” Stiles says flatly. “Why did you bring her here?” He sounds like a brat, poor baby. So put out. 

“For you,” Derek grits out like it hurts him, fists clenched at his side, and Stiles just looks confused. Because even as little as Kate knows Derek, barely more than the legend that  _is_  Derek Hale, he probably didn’t tell Stiles anything. 

“For me,” Stiles repeats, slowly. “You’re making less sense than usual, and considering this month’s track record —”

Kate cuts to the chase. Kisses Stiles. It’s sweet and short and shocking, and she keeps her eyes open to watch the way Stiles’s eyes widen, the way his eyelashes flutter. She can even hear the way Derek inhales, sharp enough to cut.  

“ _That_ ’s what he means, cupcake,” Kate says, and licks her lips because oh, yes. 

“You…” Stiles’s gaze swings from Kate to Derek. “Really?”

It takes a moment, but Derek nods. “Yes. Really.”

Stiles throws his arms around Derek’s neck - throws his whole  _body_  into Derek, really - pushing his face against Derek’s, and by the time Derek lets go the kid is starry-eyed.

Kate doesn’t blame him for wanting to keep that to himself. Not at all.

“But you never,” Stiles is protesting, “You don’t -“

“I don’t care,” Derek says, and brushes his knuckles against the side of Stiles’s face. It would look threatening, if Kate didn’t know better. ”But we should go upstairs.”

| |

Stiles’s bedroom is brightly colored mess. Posters on the walls, a stack of comic books on the computer desk, a rumple of a bed. A boy’s room. 

It goes awkward for a minute. Derek letting his jealousy get the better of him, and Stiles his nervousness, hands fluttering like little birds - pulling at the edge of his shirt, shoved inside his pockets - and Kate decides to go for the shock and awe option. She pulls her shirt off in one smooth movement, as fluid as she can make it. Feels her breasts rise, bounce a little when her arms come back down. She wore one of her better bras today - lacy, almost useless in the support department, but very pretty, very  _scanty_ , and the way Stiles whistles out a low “ _Jesus_ ” makes the disgruntled look her father gets at every credit card statement even sweeter.

“Jesus,” Stiles says again, and takes a stumbling step forward before screeching to halt. To look at Derek. To see if he’s okay, or to ask for permission, Kate wonders. Derek could give stone-faced a new definition, but he nods eventually, a short sharp jerk of his head, and Stiles moves forward again - hesitant, hands outstretched slightly, like a goddamn deer that will startle with any sudden movements. Until he’s close enough for Kate to feel the heat. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” she says, a half-step above a whisper, and guides one of his hands to stroke the skin just above the edge of the cup. Fuck,  his hands are big. You know what they say. In Kate’s experience it isn’t  _always_ true, but she can’t say she isn’t interested in finding out.

“Derek?” she asks, as sweet as she can without overselling it. One hand curling over the back of Stiles’s neck. “Unsnap me?” Watching Stiles fumble around wouldn’t be nearly as much fun as having Derek step up behind her, glowering; broad hands just under her shoulderblades. Bracketed by two gorgeous boys - a little more emphasis on  _boy_  for one of them, hm - bra sliding to the floor while Stiles worries his bottom lip, and Derek’s stubble grazes just behind Kate’s ear, and Kate shifts her knees together restlessly because yeah, this is going to work. 

| |

“How about we put on a little show for your boyfriend, huh?” she suggests, and Stiles nods, a little curl to the corner of his mouth that Kate recognizes, has seen reflected in the mirror - and oh, Kate understands that, starts to understand  _him_. Derek might have more of a type than she thought.

Stiles kisses well. Better than the high schoolers of Kate’s acquaintance, much less the college guys. Derek must have taught him that. He’s kissed Kate a few times - mostly pecks, all public, and a few in particular just to piss Chris off. Nothing like this. Stiles’s mouth gone soft and generous beneath hers. She thinks about having him go down on her - his fingers inside of her - but for now she contents herself with watching his face. The wonder, the amazement. Cleaner than lust, somehow. More pure. His first - of a kind, anyway - and knowing Derek, quite possibly the only. She has that, gets to  _keep_  it, and she can help looking back at Derek from under her eyelashes, and watching him smolder. 

| |

“Bed,” Derek says. Not quite a grunt. Not quite a growl. Too petulant to be forceful, but Stiles shivers all the same.

| |

Derek props himself up on one elbow, watching over them, the careful curve of Stiles’s body next to Kate’s. He’s not unaffected, exactly - his erection gives that away - but he’s more focused on Stiles than Kate. On Stiles’s wide-eyed, wide-mouthed appreciation. 

“Is this -” and Stiles looks so uncertain, his voice cracking. Lips swollen from their kissing, littered with beard burn and reddened bruises from Derek’s mouth. Dick curled up against his stomach soft stomach. Everything about Stiles is smooth, and soft. Different from the smattering of hair on Derek’s chest, his legs, his arms. Even the stubble on his face. Kate could have kissed Stiles all day, and no one would have been the wiser. ”Is this okay? Is this good?” 

 _Am I as good as Derek_ , is what Kate hears, and she cradles him just so between her thighs. 

“Derek and I have never done this.” She drops her voice, like she’s telling him a secret. ”I wasn’t even sure if Derek was interested in girls, to tell the truth.”

“ _Oh_ ,” and Derek is deadly, guiltily silent. 

“But you are,” Kate continues. The proof of it rubbing just against her hipbone. Leaving a little pool of wet every time Stiles moves. ”Aren’t you going to fuck me, sweetheart?” and that makes him shudder, full-bodied, the tips of his toes curling in the bedspread; makes Derek curse and dig his fingers into Stiles’s hip. 

“You need a condom,” Derek grits out, and Stiles’s face somehow - charmingly - goes redder. 

“But we never…” he begins, and then stops. Looks embarrassed.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Kate says, somewhere between sarcastic and soothing. The latter isn’t in her nature, but why spook Stiles when she’s about to ride him like a prized stallion? Shouldn’t trust teenage girls anyway, Kate thinks. Not about things like this. Even if the last thing she needs to worry about is having the bastard of the Sheriff’s underage son.

| | 

Putting on the condom is only a semi-laughable affair. Stiles ends up on top of her, dragging against her, pushing in as Derek guides the set of his hips. It’s a sweet little stretch, a pleasant burn, and it all washes away under the stutter of Stiles’s body. The look on his face. He kisses her so sweetly - like some kind of  _romance_ , like Kate is the type who needs it, and the idea is perverse enough to get her off.

Derek still curls up next to the both of them - hands occasionally grazing over Kate, calluses and scars, holding Stiles’s neck, pressing to the small of his back, dipping down to nip at his ear, his neck; grip tight enough to bruise. Then Derek’s hand slips in between them, fingers working the swell of Kate’s clit. Its angry, and perfunctory, and insultingly removed, the opposite of Stiles’s soft kisses, and if Kate were someone else that might not turn her on so much. As it is, she comes with a breathless, triumphant laugh; digging her nails into Stiles’s shoulder, into Derek’s forearm. Clenching around Stiles like she’d hurt him if she could.

Stiles comes like crazy, then. Letting her wring it out of him - or Derek, Kate thinks hazily, same difference - and Stiles sobs through it, the sound muffled by Derek’s mouth on top of his.  

“Oh,” Stiles says, when Derek lets him up for air. “C’mon, Derek, let me -“  but Derek is already pulling Stiles off of Kate,  _out_  of her. Pushing Stiles underneath him to rut up against.

Oh Derek, Kate thinks, how desperately Alpha  _male_  of you. It’s made worse by the way Stiles just looks up at him adoringly - diabetic coma levels of adorable, as if Derek weren’t trying to work his come into Stiles’s skin. They start to kiss again, Derek tilting Stiles’s head back, showing off the long line of his neck. Adam’s apple jutting out.

| |

Derek might look relaxed, in the end - one hand curled over Stiles’s hipbone, thumb slowly circling - but his eyes are as bright and sharp as any predators. Leave, his eyes say. And as much as Kate taunts and plays him, she wouldn’t  _push_  him. Not unless he was set up for a fall. 

So much for the afterglow.

“I’ll just borrow the Camaro,” she says. Slips out of bed and pulls her clothes on. She leans over to give Stiles a peck on the forehead before she goes - not quite maternal, not quite  _smart_ , but Kate lives to dance on the knife’s edge. “Pick you up for school tomorrow, Der.”

 “G’bye,” Stiles says, somewhere between cheerful and awed and tired, happily crushed beneath Derek’s body.

| |

Derek breaks up with Kate the next week, but she can’t say she didn’t see that coming.


End file.
